Battle For Terok Nor
by Jinn Twins
Summary: Pretty much the same thing as in the book, just enhanced and a little more thought provoking. T for violence and mild language. Update: Sorry! This isn't being updated anymore...too little time.
1. Battle for Terok Nor

DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't sue.

Yeah, so I had fun.

So what? This is just a simple partial reworking to give this scene a bit more detail, there isa bit from the book, a bit from my stupidity. It's VERY close to the book version, I was just unsatisfied with it and thus wrote this piece about two years ago, uncovering it today. This is Anij writing, by theway.

You don't need to review if you don't want, I already know you're going to say 'whoa there, WAAAAY too close to the book'. Too bad...

Please, enjoy.

* * *

**BATTLE FOR TEROK NOR**

In the briefing room of Terok Nor, formerly Deep Space Nine, the Founder turned to her loyal underling, the Vorta Weyoun.

"Founder," the Vorta began, "I have massed the Dominion fleet to engage the task force. It has all the requirements needed." He handed her a data chip, which she inserted into the computer, which showed the fleet, or at least the specs of it. Looking it over, she found no flaw.

"Good," she said in that soft tone of voice that was just as deadly. "It will do. Hold some of them out of sensor range, so the taskforce will not see it." How wise the Founder was! Weyoun thought. How fluidly she conceived the future! Indeed, it must be pure chance that such an imperfect creature like him had become subordinate to only her, a god in his view!

"Thank you, Founder."

"Now you may leave the room," the Founder said with the air of being in authority. "The war begins at seven hundred hours, based on our findings."

* * *

Soaring through the Bajoran wormhole, the Federation task force was made up of at least a thousand different ships. On board the _Defiant_, a small and seemingly insignificant starship, one of the most esteemed starship captains of the Federation, Benjamin Sisko, sat in command.

"Sir! We will be exiting the wormhole in approximately seventy-five seconds!" called the small Ferengi, Ensign Nog.

"Good, Ensign. Can we take them?" asked the captain, a bald black man of perhaps fifty.

"Yes, sir. Weapons are at full power, phaser banks fully charged, torpedoes at the ready," said Commander Worf, the hardy Klingon.

"Sir, Admiral Ross is hailing us, as is General Martok," said Lieutenant Ezri Dax, his Trill officer.

"Split-screen transmission, Dax. Hello, Admiral, General." Admiral Ross appeared unsteady, but still ready to go. Martok looked like he was ready to go for it.

The tired-looking admiral spoke first. "Captain, ready?" Sisko chose to respond with a straight answer.

"As ready as possible. Is the task force?"

"Yes, the Romulans and the Klingons are in position. Best of luck, Ben." Ross said, then added, "And to you, General."

"Same to you, Admiral." As the admiral winked off-screen, Sisko turned his attention to Martok, who grinned with his entire Klingon splendor and asked, "Is your admiral up to this? He seems the_...soft _type._"_

Sisko, a bit offended, replied, "Of course, General. I'll see you on Deep Space Nine."

With that, Martok offered a Klingon word, the word for 'best of luck'. At least, that's what it equated to. "Q'apla, Captain Sisko. General Martok out." As the image faded from the viewscreen, Sisko turned his attention to the exit of the wormhole, drawing nearer and nearer, like a black hole.

"All right, people. You heard the orders. Move out!" Sisko called. Then, he motioned to Ezri, who tapped the internal communications system.

"General Quarters, Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Prepare to engage the enemy." Sisko could have called that thirty minutes ago, and the rush of adrenaline would have worn off by now. He needed that rush _now_, not thirty minutes ago. Then, they all waited for all the universe to tear itself apart around them, piece by piece as the fire of the skies opened into the heavens.

* * *

Floating somewhat peacefully outside the wormhole, the Cardassian space station Terok Nor, commanded by Gul Dukat, seemed to be bracing for an attack in ever so subtle ways. The lights, normally glowing to indicate a docking point, seemed to be an ominous reminder of the war now. The three pylons seemed to be folded inward even more so than before, as if to guard its heart at the habitat ring. The phaser banks seemed all too charged and ready, and the shield generators glowed in the now sinister light of this system's sun. Several Breen, Cardassian, and Jem'Hadar light cruisers were docked, but a few were on active patrol. However, there were only about a hundred. Within two minutes were ships in excess of a thousand to meet the Federation. They poured through the wormhole, weapons already blazing in crimson and amber streams of light. One might even find them mesmerizing, if not for the war.

* * *

On the little ship_ Defiant_, Lieutenant Ezri Dax responded to the blips and beeps from the consoles, working her panel like the expert she was. She had, after all, three lifetimes of experience. "Dominion fleet is in excess of one thousand." The only sound, save for the computers, was a sharp intake of breath. They all knew how strong Dominion ships were, having been on their bad side much more than once. Having been bitten by the same teeth they were bending and now breaking.

"Ready phasers." called Sisko.

"Yes, sir," replied Worf from the weapons display.

"All right, Mr. Worf. Fire at will." Sisko said.

They all felt the crackle of energy throughout the ship as the phasers fired. They all were wondering how their ship would hold up, even if it was tried and true from past encounters with hostile beings. Now, though, they knew time to worry was past, because now the battle had begun.

* * *

An hour later, the battle still raged in all its fury, a beast unleashed. The bridge smelled of burning plasma conduits and smoke. No time to track them down, not now. He tried the be Nog's eyes, for their helmsman had to keep his eyes strictly to the computer to keep them alive. Never once did the captain doubt the ensign.

"Sir, Admiral Ross is hailing us," called Ezri from tactical. Wait… tactical? Everyone was working more than one panel, he realized. He nodded to her.

"Ben, we have to retreat!" Ross said over the chaos that his bridge was. "The Romulans' line is collapsing-" His voice was cut off as an explosion threw the admiral out of his seat. As he staggered back into the viewscreen range, he continued, "We have to either win this battle and get destroyed, and I'm not going to get destroyed here. We need to fall back!"

"No, Admiral," Sisko said quite evenly, as an explosion rocked his ship. "The line must be drawn somewhere, why not here? Why not indeed?"

"All right, Ben. We press on. But if we lose even one more ship…" The admiral turned white at the thought. Sisko understood quite well.

"I understand, admiral. Out." Sisko responded, cutting off the transmission. Then the shapeshifter Odo called his attention.

"Sir, I believe you should see this…" Sisko picked his way from the command chair, stopping and groping wildly for support as the ship was hit in another blast. A panel exploded in a flash behind him, and someone fell back, but fortunately, they were unharmed. O'Brien, his engineer, worked his console, and a moment later, another technician burst through the turbolift. Finally, he was there.

"What is it, Odo?" he questioned his security officer's abilities.

"All the Breen ships we have destroyed were hit in the emergency bay launch doors, sir." Odo told him. Odo looked at Sisko, who looked at Worf, who was already looking at Ezri, who didn't have a clue what this all meant.

"Dax! Hail the fleet! Let 'em know what we found!" _Now_ she got it. Sending the message on priority one, she sent it to the entire taskforce.

* * *

In the briefing room, which had once seemed the picture of tranquility during wartime, the Founder now turned to Weyoun.

"I need you over here _now_, Weyoun!" she called, her voiceoddly betraying emotions that a shapeshiftershouldn't have had.

"Yes, Founder?" Weyoun asked pleasantly, his musical voice letting her know that he still thought her a god, which, in fact, they had made every soldier genetically-engineered by them believe.

"We will regroup on Cardassia Prime. I suggest that you begin evacuating the station, provided we can find flight plans." Oh, so even the Founder had trouble...

"I will order a Jem'Hadar ship to come back." Weyoun promised, and then left the room, leaving it empty. In just a moment, though, the commander of the Cardassian/Dominion troops walked in, Legate Broca.

"Founder!" he called her attention without reverence, obviously flustered. At least he stopped there, the Founder mused.

"Yes, Broca?" she asked, turning to him.

"The Federation taskforce has found the largestweakness in the Breen ships, sir. Suggest we retreat-" his voice was cut off then and there as she grabbed his neck, lifting him above the ground, effectively blocking off his airflow. With that maddeningly calm voice of hers, she told him,

"We must not retreat, nor will you order them to. How does that sound to you?" Only his lips moved as he mouthed out 'no retreat….' The Founder rudely dropped him, and the Cardassian simply lay there for a few minutes, just recovering, gasping for air. She moved off, not really caring. "Bring in the Cardassian reinforcements. We must win this battle. You may go, Broca." she said-with an edge to her voice this time. Legate Broca was smart enough to move out the door this time, and, once again, they left her to her thoughts.

* * *

No side had a clear advantage yet. It was one and all the same, chaos. The bridge still smelled of burning plasma, but it was better. Another control panel exploded as a Breen ship sunk its still-unbroken teeth into them. Shrapnel punctured Sisko's arm, and he simply brushed it away, leaving a patch of blood and a torn uniform hole. The _Defiant_ kept hammering away at her enemies, letting them rest only when they were proven to be dead in space. This time, they were after a Jem'Hadar battle cruiser. Next time, perhaps a Breen warship.

* * *

The heat was nearly unbearable in here. Twin beams shot out of the Jem'Hadar ship, and another panel, the engineering main panel, blew up in a light so bright it blinded everyone. He heard a loud cry and prayed that it was not from O'Brien, and as he turned, there was his nightmare incarnate. Without O'Brien, they couldn't keep the _Defiant_ running, at least not as effectively. He was reminded of something he had said before, earlier today… 'Keep fighting, try not to die, but if we have to die, **make it count**.' It looked that bad. Rushing to his friend to help him, the scene he saw was grisly and ghastly all in one. The chief engineer's entire right arm was burned, how badly he couldn't tell, his face was bloodied from flying shrapnel, and O'Brien's shoulder…. With a grimace, the chief of operations tried to sit up to go back to work. His entire right shoulder was charred and bleeding badly-and the uniform had melted onto the shoulder- the sparks leaving it as perhaps an afterthought. It was so bad Sisko doubted that he would be conscious much longer. Stopping the chief halfway up, he said,

"Rest. I'll call sickbay." The minute Sisko took his hand off to tap his combadge, he sat up and tried to keep working on the power supplies to some burnt-out consoles. "Sisko to Bashir." O'Brien stopped for just an instant and winced, a reminder of how excruciating the pain he was in was, then returned to the task, just like he normally would.

"Bashir here. What is it, Captain?" the young doctor's irritation showed through, but just a little, to the young doctor's credit.

"I need you up on the bridge now. O'Brien's hurt."

"On my way. Bashir Out." Well, that was done. A moment later, He burst out of the turbolift, nearly fell over because of another attack by the same damned Jem'Hadar ship, and rushed over to his fallen comrade.

He stopped as the ship shook, as not to bump something or accidentally disrupt the scanner. Done scanning, Bashir guided his friend up on his feet, and called to the captain.

"I need him in sickbay, Captain. Come on, Miles." He addressed his friend, the looked to Sisko for conformation. Sisko nodded, releasing him. He didn't want to be pessimistic, however, the chances of O'Brien being capable after this looked slim, if he even lived.

Again, that was done. One problem down, only a million to go. The ship rocked from friendly fire. Well, it wasn't perfect, was it? The deck lurched. More fire. Wonderful. Inwardly, he groaned. But then: "Sir! The fleet is at a ratio of every one Dominion ship to every two taskforce ships!" The informant was the little Ferengi, Nog, of all people. A cheer went up around the ship's bridge. All right, people. Now we have Terok Nor. Compared to the ships, Terok Nor seemed easy. Sir! The fighters are leaving! We may not have to fight Terok Nor… sir, there are no Dominion troops inside!" called an overeager lieutenant.

"Well, then," Sisko said, "We retake Deep Space Nine."

* * *

A day later, they were all on the station, formerly Terok Nor, now, under Starfleet/Bajoran joint command, Deep Space Nine. He had already checked with everyone, helped them get unpacked, helped them to move in. The O'Briens would be here within a week, leaving the Starfleet engineer alone in his home, but not alone on the shift. Suddenly, from above, a familiar voice called, "Captain!" It was Kira Nerys, his Bajoran First Officer. She had stayed, because the Bajoran people had a treaty with the Dominion, and they would not be harmed. Not to mention the Bajorans needed a leader. But anyway, he smiled and told her,

"It's nice to be back, Major. Did you see the battle?"

"No, but I did see a certain Vorta running…" Kira grinned wolfishly and Sisko bit back one. Then he walked over to the infirmary. There lay an unusually quiet O'Brien and Bashir was working on his shoulder. Ah, that wasn't so good. Walking in, he waited for less than a minute before Bashir realized he was there.

"Oh. Hello, sir." The doctor said, without looking up even once.

"Is there any chance of waking him up now, Doctor?" he knew O'Brien didn't know that they were on DS9, he had been unconscious the entire time.

"Of course, sir. It'll probably be better for him anyway." Bashir gave O'Brien a two hyposprays, one for his shoulder, and one to awaken him, and then waited for a minute. O'Brien's eyes fluttered open, slowly bringing him back to consciousness for the first time in two days.

"Deep Space Nine…?" he murmured, not quite sure what to believe. Then he began to get up… …and Bashir pushed him back down gently. The man looked towards his commander, who knew he had no jurisdiction over the doctor anyway.

"Chief, it will take a little explaining, but welcome home." he said with a smile. They all felt like it, because, even if the war wasn't over yet, with the station, it seemed a whole lot brighter, and that the war would be over sooner.

* * *

Now that was fun...Hope you enjoyed it!

-Anij Jinn


	2. Mending Old Wounds

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is not mine, neither are the characters. Don't sue me.

It's not too long, but not all that short either, the storyline's being extended by request. Thanks to **Amorcia** for reviewing and reading!

**Onward with the reclamation of DS9...**

* * *

**MENDING OLD WOUNDS**

"They've gutted DS9, sir. I'm doing what I can, but I don't exactly know when it'll be operational," Miles O'Brien said directly into his combadge.

"Your best has to be _better_, Chief. The task force can't guard us forever, and we don't know when Dominon reinforcements are going to come pouring through that wormhole," came the calm and, as usual, collected voice of Captain Sisko.

"Alright, Captain, I'll try..." he trailed off, and as an afterthought, added, "O'Brien out." Pulling out a microspanner, he went back to work repairing some of the electrical conduits that powered the Promenade. Ops was already done, as was the infirmary and other main areas.

"Of course they had to gut DS9..." he muttered, stringing a loud combination of curse words together as he hit his head, and then starting off on a litany about the 'damned Cardies'.

It just wasn't his day.

* * *

Lieutenant Dax was more than a little tired. She had been working with Julian almost the entire day, helping him get the infirmary back together. What did she have to say about it?

"No offence, Julian, but I'm really glad I'm not a doctor," she remarked in her lilting voice.

"Oh, but it's enjoyable! Finding a cure for a disease, helping people--"

"And going out to drink with Miles after hours, right?" she laughed in a strange tone of voice. "Maybe I'll join you... you know he's leaving DS9 for Earth after the war's over, right?"

Bashir stopped where he was, his back to Ezri. He turned slowly around, a stunned look on his face.

"What?"

"I said, he's leaving for Earth. He's been offered a lead position in Starfleet Academy, and he took the offer. Keiko'salready making arrangements for a house there," she said, now sorry that she had told him. It had obviously been something Miles didn't want to tell Bashir yet, and now she had ruined it. "I'm so sorry, Julian, I thought he had told you!"

She gently tried to wrap her arms around him to comfort him, but was pushed off, not in anger, but distraction.

"I've got to find Miles and talk to him. Watch the infirmary for me, Ezri. I should be back—soon."

With that, Julian Bashir walked out of the door.

* * *

Sisko placed the baseball he had gotten from Dukat back on his desk, a bit troubled. His son was growing up, seeing more of the world and how cruel it had become. He had seen innocent people slaughtered for this station, and so much blood spilled from the outcome... could he ever hope to comfort him?

"Ops to Sisko," Worf said, looking at him through the glass door seperating his room form Ops.

"Sisko here," he said evenly, voice betraying no emotion whatsoever.

"We're being hailed by Starfleet and they'd like to talk to you, sir. It is a Priority One message."

"Direct it to my office. Sisko out."

He popped up a small monitor from his desk as Admiral Ross appeared on-screen.

"Ben, it's good to see you. How are you doing?"

"A little shaken up, Admiral, but while the battle goes, there's not enough time to rest," he replied almost jovially.

"More than agreed. But I didn't call on you for chitchat. Starfleet wants you in a higher level position. Now, there are two candidates, but you're the best man for the job. If you don't want it, he gets it. It's a one-star admirality position, you'd be back on Earth, see the family--"

"Forgive me for this, but I really hate deskwork, Admiral. Is that what you're asking?"

"Well, not exactly, but yes more or less," the nervous and tenative answer came.

"I'll pass on it this time. If I never get a position there," he paused to take a breath, "I'll be a happy man."

"As you say, Captain. Ross out."

The transmission cut out, and all that Sisko could do was thank the Prophets he was on the admiral's good side.

* * *

Odo was sitting in his normal security area, fixing a few basic things he knew how to. Sparks were still flying, and from examination of what was left of the tapes, he was able to make sure that, once again, the Cardassians, aided by the Jem'Hadar, had completely and totally wrecked the station before leaving, and on purpose.

It was getting tiring. Day in, day out, he wondered more and more what it would be like to be a god to people that would never fail him. People that would take every word he said as if it were a drop of gold. How many Founders were there? How many out there to be worshipped? And while that happened, the virus Starfleet had sent along was killing them. His people were dying because he was told to withhold the cure. But why?

Perhaps the Female Founder had the right idea, after all. Perhaps she knew what she was doing. It was then that he found the datachip with his name on it, cautiously hidden underneath the papers left on his desk.

* * *

"Weyoun! I want a status report, please," the female-like shapeshifter ordered.

"Of course, Founder, one moment and I will report," said the musical Vorta, his voice pleasant on the ears of all but the Founder, who hated him. Hated everything he was. The fact that he was still a mere mortal.

"The Federation task force seems to not be in much of a hurry to leave the wormhole unguarded, Founder," he said, too eager to please.

"Very well. Leave me. I will be here should an emergency arise," she said, wondering about her _other_ endeavor. To bring Odo to her, she had to first set the bait...and wait for him to bite.

* * *

"Odo, I know you're watching this. I can only hope to explain to you why we left this for you. First, you are a Founder by right, not a Solid! You belong here. We all miss you, every one of us. You could have people to cater to your every whim!" she said with honey-coated words. It was the Female Founder, of course. She paused to let him think before continuing. "It is an insult to your abilities to be commanded by a mere Solid, when you could soon command him and others better than he. If you wanted, you could keep Deep Space Nine for yourself. Command it apart from the Dominion. But we need you...I need you." At this, Odo snorted and continued playing the chip for the amusement of it. She was groveling with him, trying to make him do what she wanted him to. "And now, Odo, the choice is yours. The Great Link awaits you at our side. I hope you make the correct one."

Odo considered it. He could rejoin the Great Link permanetly... perhaps...

* * *

Not long but it works. I'm getting there, I'll expand the story more if you want.

Review please!

-Anij Jinn


End file.
